


by the way, that’s my little brother

by xioying



Series: anarchist on the dream smp [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xioying/pseuds/xioying
Summary: With uncanny timing, in the midst of slowly bending Tommy to his will, Dream gets an invite from Techno.
Series: anarchist on the dream smp [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080539
Comments: 5
Kudos: 221





	by the way, that’s my little brother

Technoblade’s cottage was surprisingly cosy.

Techno had never prided himself as a builder, Dream knew, so it was amazingly pleasant that his house wasn’t a simple three-dimensional rectangle with some hole somewhere to store his other goods or horses or whatnot. Instead, it had a little shelter for his (probably) prized horse, and an entry to what seemed like a bunker through double doors crafted from spruce wood. A wooden porch raised by a staircase paved the way to the main entrance, but what impressed Dream the most apart from the fact that it looked like an actual building was the chimney he’d bothered to install, clouds of smoke puffing out from the mouth of it.

Though, Dream mused as he stroked the neck of the armoured horse outside, the architecture probably wasn’t an original one.

Carl, the horse, snorted and nuzzled into his hand. Dream glanced up at the wooden windows. In any case, Techno had been the one who invited him over. Where was he? The snowfall was becoming heavier by the second. His teeth might start chattering anytime soon.

“You can stop getting chummy with my horse.”

Dream whirled around with a beam. “Techno!”

“You’re getting chummy with my horse,” Techno repeated flatly, unmoving from in front of the open doors on the porch.

Giving Carl one last rub, Dream headed up the stairs, balancing his palms on the railings. “It’s a nice horse.”

“It’s a _very_ nice horse,” Techno corrected, gesturing Dream into the house, to which Dream obediently complied. “I spent hours selectively breeding it.”

The inside wasn’t as well-furnished as the exterior was, with treasure chests stuffed against one wall, a campfire in one corner, and ladders leading up into the attic and down into the bunker. Development came one step at a time, Dream supposed. The only signs of decoration was an almost floor-length painting of himself pinned on the wall. Very humble. He took a seat on one of the two wooden chairs, propping his elbows on the round table in front of him, and ignored the grumbling of a zombified piglin beneath.

A white ceramic plate was before him enthroned a crisp baked potato, neatly sliced down the middle. Dream had half a mind to simply pocket it and bring it home as his first gift from Techno.

Techno sat himself down opposite of Dream, and unlike Dream, had no reserves about picking up his knife and fork and digging in.

“You’re planting potatoes now?” Dream prompted, picking his own fork up and prodding at it.

“Yup.”

“I take it that your retirement plan is going well.”

“Mm… it’s,” Techno speared a cut slice with his fork and waved it back and forth absentmindedly, “going better than I expected, actually. You would’ve thought doing a complete one-eighty from your old ways would be incredibly difficult, but it’s been a breeze so far.”

Dream grinned, sinking his fork in. “That’s good.”

“And I’ve heard you’re hanging out with Tommy a whole lot.”

The coat of the potato was soft, but not in a squishy, unappetising way. Dream rotated the potato around. “Yeah?”

Techno let out a short chortle. Dream chuckled along with him, though he wasn’t sure about what. “I _laughed_ when he got exiled.” He shoved the slice into the side of his mouth, against his inner cheek, and talked against his fork, teeth clanging against the metal. “And now he’s been turned on by his closest friends and now he has no friends in a faraway land and no one for company. Man.”

Where was he going with this? Dream just laughed. “His punishment for his pranks would’ve caught up to him eventually. It’s just happening now.” He lifted the fork up, pale bits from the inside clinging to the tines. “L’Manberg’s also been a lot more peaceful without him around. No buildings griefed, no pets stolen. No revolution going on.” There might be an army that was stacking up against Techno, but he figured Techno didn’t need to know that yet. Actually, he probably somehow already knew.

“He just sparks destruction,” Techno agreed. He tilted his head. “But I have to say, that little Theseus _is_ still my younger brother. Family and all, you know how it is.”

Dream stiffened. “I do.”

“So I’m glad you’re taking the initiative to spend time around with him. He must be feeling pretty horrible. I mean—he probably deserves it, but everyone needs friends. I trust that you’re taking good care of him?”

“I am.”

“Good. It’s good to see that you’re taking care of him. I know he’s always getting into trouble by himself, but I’d hate it if someone else were to…” Techno sighed, impaling his fork and digging his knife into the skin of the potato, “let’s say, take advantage of him.”

A blizzard howled outside.

“I’d _really_ hate it… I’d hate it so much, I don’t know _what_ I’d do… if that happened.”

The knife rang against the ceramic.

The fireplace crackled. Beneath, the piglin bemoaned its confinement.

“Right… well,” Dream laughed, smile pulled much too taut, “you’re welcome. And thank you for inviting me to show me your house. It’s very welcoming.”

Techno grinned, teeth showing. “Oh, you’re welcome. _Anytime_.” Then he popped another piece of potato into his mouth. “Ah, by the way, about the farm, I was thinking…”

Dream nodded, but it was more of a reflex than actually agreeing to what Techno was saying. The grip on his fork was painfully tight, and his smile felt more frozen in place than genuine. And it wasn’t from the cold.

Damn this pig.

**Author's Note:**

> edit help why are people user subscribing to me from this


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